


won't you stay with me?

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Claire is the best, F/M, as does Matt, she deserves better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell's Kitchen waits for no Devil, and neither does the winter cold. luckily, Claire's got Matt covered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	won't you stay with me?

Claire rolled over and groaned, pressing her face into the pillow. “You’re leaving _now_?”

“My patrol’s not done yet,” Matt reminded her softly, putting on his boots. “Not that I _want_ to go out, you know.”

Claire sighed and let herself enjoy the pillow underneath her, the firmness of the mattress for a few moments more. She could say, _you don’t have to, you could stay,_ but they both know she won’t. He’d go anyways. 

Then she pushed herself off the bed and headed determinedly for the closet, Matt’s startled, questioning, “Claire?” following her.

She pulled out a coat from the closet, an old one of her dad’s, the one she would wear when Hell’s Kitchen would hit _below zero_  and worse. Lots of “frozen over” jokes would ensue. “Here,” she said, returning the room, holding it out to him. “At least take this, that suit of yours is hardly insulated.” 

“It’ll impede my movement,” he protested, but accepted the coat anyways, running his hands carefully over the lining and deep hood. “It’s too big to belong to you.”

Claire crawled back into the still warm hollow of her bed where she’d been earlier. “It belonged to my dad. It’s better than that ninja outfit you got.”

“ _Not_ a ninja,” Matt said, but with a certain kind of exasperated fondness, it was an old argument. He shrugs it on carefully, straightening up, making sure it lies smooth. “Fits alright.”

Claire looks at him, standing at the foot of her bed, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen bundled up in a huge old winter jacket right out of the late eighties and fights down a smile. “Don’t bring it back ripped.” 

He leaned down to plant a soft, light kiss on her lips before slipping out into the night. “Never.”

He comes back at dawn, quietly hangs up the jacket on the empty chair and crawls back into her bed, as she drowses and dreams. 


End file.
